


Sicarii

by Baron_von_Muffinbeard_III



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Cyborgs, Gen, Gladiators, Psychic Abilities, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-22 16:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baron_von_Muffinbeard_III/pseuds/Baron_von_Muffinbeard_III
Summary: Two things that people desire most is bread and circus. The Empress provides to all of her subjects the first, and her Sicarii provide the second. They enact the Empress's justice through televised trials by combat and reap the admiration of their fans. However, only those that rise to fame and fortune get accepted by the empire at large. The rest are no better than murderers and monsters, the Empress's Nightmares.





	1. The Small Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have posted anything I have written. Someone very important to me has inspired me to share my creativity more widely so lets see what happens.

The earthy smell of coffee, no matter how terrible the cup actually tastes, is one of life's simple pleasures. The ethereal wisps of steam that rise as the black liquid pours into the white ceramic mug is the cherry on top. White ceramic, something that is so classic and pure even now. Ageless really. I really wish that I could still taste the coffee for real, feeling the hot bitterness swirling around my tongue. Feel the acrid taste cling to my mouth with it being refreshed each and every sip. The rich and satisfying punch to the system is the perfect addition to any morning routine. The cybernetics do their best though, better than not being able to taste at all. After this job maybe an upgrade will be in order, though that might have to wait until after a few other expenses get paid. Then again, this transport was cheap compared to the usual vessels I charter. I might be able to swing that upgrade come payday. You know what I am going to treat myself. I work too damn hard to not appreciate how terrible freighter coffee really is. Would it kill anyone to spend a few extra coin on their complimentary coffee? 

 

The most annoying thing about this ship is that their chairs must have been made by the lowest bidder. Just 225 kilograms and this flimsy piece of scrap metal is already protesting loudly each time I even shift a little. If they make me have to pay for this chair after I peel it off my metal ass then I am going to have some choice words and a bad review in store for them. At the very least the galley is extremely quiet. The other passengers and the crew are kind enough not to stare too much though there are still enough wide eyed children to be uncomfortable. I think I am going to take this coffee and go. Shit coffee is better than no coffee. With a gentle push on the table, which thankfully is better made than this chair, I bring myself up and out of the now novelty chair. The table does tilt a bit before I can put all of my weight on my legs again. A few of the others jump as the table slams down onto the metal flooring. The metallic slam reverberates through the still air as I begin to walk. I say the only thing that comes to mind. The speaker that replaced my vocal cords chirps from disuse. "Sorry." My words calming them as effectively as a shot of espresso.

 

The light hum of the air vents and the metallic clicks of the soles of my feet are the only sounds left in the galley until I leave the room. Only then does the whispering start. The gossip, the fear, the speculation of what I am doing on their ship, and lastly what poor son of a bitch am I being sent to kill. The cool feeling of the wall radiates through my white shirt and into the last remaining bits of flesh I have as I lean against the wall and listen. What passes for my eyes nowadays give me yet another simple pleasure. The great vastness of space stretches out from the porthole in front of me. A beautiful nebula of lavender and turquoise hangs in the void blooming outwards from whatever star created it. My internal database gives me an update that it is called the Rose Nebula. I really like that name.

 

The moment of revelry ends when one of the crew leaves the galley and notices me. The sound of his boots speeding down the other direction of the corridor silences the banter from the peanut gallery. Maybe it was a mistake getting this cup of coffee. I make sure to step louder this time so they know I am leaving them be. The talk doesn't start again until I can't make it out anymore. Just two more days before we get to Kovas. I may just spend that time in my room and ask for one of the crew to deliver my meals if they don't faint from me approaching them. Even just walking down the corridor towards the glorified closet I am staying isn't giving me hope of that. Each voidman I see happens to take a sharp turn into whatever door they are next to. Points for trying to pass it off like they are just busy. 

 

Finally getting back to my room, I can at least shut the door and finish my coffee. Without anything strong enough to sit on and relax the floor and the wall will have to do. My matte gray legs cross, rubbing the cloth of my black pants together. The pleasant chill of the metal wall creeps into my back. Maybe I should buy the upgrades I need to get my sense of touch back before getting a better sense of taste. Maybe I should see about getting a loan for both after the next arbitration. I should probably worry about that after the work is done. Who knows, maybe this time the arbitration will be televised and I can get some fans like the other Sicarii. Doubt it though. I don't have their flare or showmanship. Who am I even fighting this time? 

 

The database chimes in and brings up the details. I just lean back more and sip my hard earned coffee. A bunch of bandits it looks like, just hit the big time by raiding a weapons convoy. Estimated twenty members, access to explosives, and set up in an old research facility. Pretty routine overall but a little surprising that the Empress has taken notice of them. I wish them luck in this fight to the death. Maybe they can actually win and go in the Empress's mercy. Then I won't have to be my own problem anymore. "Damn it Falk. You can do better than that. You got this, you just need a better name. Something like the Slam Sisters or the Baron of Bloodshed. All the famous ones have cool names.You just need to get famous and then you can get all the coffee you want and even get to taste it properly." I need to stop talking to myself out loud. 

 

I have two days to rebrand. At least I have something to do while I am stuck here.


	2. All That Glitters is Gold

The ship shutters lightly as we leave our last leg of FTL travel. Another few hours before we make landfall and I can put this entire trip behind me. I do not want to have to take this freighter back with how hard it was to pay someone to bring me my meals to the room. On the trip to drop off my dirty tray, I finally get a glimpse of Kavos. A beautiful jewel of blues, reds, and greens. The start of the frontier worlds in this new wave of expansion. Maybe I could go back to my days of being a fugitive and just disappear in this sector. Maybe... but I have never heard of a Sicarii that successfully ran from their duty. Nor do I want to live looking out for the Sicarii team that would come to put me down. It is just easier to do what you are told.

A few more steps from the porthole brings me to my favorite place in this entire ship. Back to the galley and between watches means it is mostly empty. Only a single table left eating and they seem to be too busy with their game of cards to care about me. That suits me just fine honestly. The tray goes into a window and someone obscured by the wall takes it efficiently. Five strides over to the coffee pot just about spent. One cup left and just for me, likely burnt by the hotplate underneath. With the last bit of mud poured into my mug, I rinse out the pot, refill the machine with water, and dump one pre-portioned bag of grounds into a paper filter. Just a little thing to make next watch happy. Low impact philanthropy dispensed one pot at a time. I like to feel useful and better that no one knows it is me. 

"Hey! Uh... Sir?" The only patrons in here are looking my way and actually talking to me. How does this kind of thing go? I just take my coffee and turn to face them as I take a sip. Absolutely dreadful. I want three more cups of this. My voice chirps again. "How can I help you all?" I don't start walking over until they actually gesture for me to get closer. A lot of people don't like it when I approach them uninvited. I cannot figure out why. 

An older gentleman, human like me, strokes his beard with a mix between interest and anxiety. "We were wondering if you could help us with a bet. We were watching some of Violence Mulligan's and Massacre Mordu's arbitrations and we are trying to figure out who would win if they fought. You are likely the best authority we have on the two of them. Who do you think would win?" I keep forgetting how terrible the names of the other Sicarii actually are. I take this question as my invitation to come join them and kneel so I don't have to pay for another chair. Yes, they made me pay for that fucking chair.

"Realistically I would go with Mordu. Their weapon choices are drastically different with Violence using a chainsaw and shotgun while Mordu uses explosives mainly. That armor can take being hit with a truck, and I can say that from experience." My answer makes some at the table really happy while the old man grumbles and takes another shot of whatever rotgut he favors. I miss being able to get drunk. "Now if I was going to say who would win on purely skill, I would go with Violence. He has a military background whereas Mordu was just an arsonist that got lucky when she was on the other side of an arbitration. Both won and got their knives but I feel Violence actually earned his." The expressions at the table swap. A insectoid person, I think they are a she, slams their fit on the table.

"He said that Mordu would have won as they are equipment wise and that is the best comparison we have. It is not like they would fight each other naked and unarmed." I really wish I could remember the names of all the races around here but there are just too much to keep track of in the empire. Personally I do not care enough to check the database either. An avian man squawks as he adjusts himself on his chair and takes the bottle of booze from the old man. "No, we should compare how they would fair if both of them were just using their badges of office." He turns to face me as I sip my coffee again. "Uh... what is your name?" Figures. "My name is Falk." The table all start to think if they have heard of me. "Nope, can't say I heard of you... Well Falk, who would win if they were using the fancy knives?"

Now that is a much more interesting question. I cannot help but put the cup down on the table and then pull my Sica from my belt. "That is a fight I would want to see actually." My words become more even now that the speaker is more warmed up. "They wouldn't use armor most likely since these things don't care about it. Mordu actually uses hers when she fights so she is more used to using it while Violence would have formal training in knife fighting. I cannot say." I draw mine and hold the long knife in my hand. The crystalline blade shines beautifully even in the dull artificial light of the freighter. The table marvels at it, even when they are hammered they tense up at the sight. 

A tall reptilian man rubs his chin as he looks at me and my Sica. "How does one become a Sicarii?" I put the knife away and resume drinking the mud in my mug. "The simplest way is to kill one during an arbitration. Otherwise, prove that you are good enough to serve the Empress in that capacity." The old man leans in a little. "How did you get your knife?" That was an obvious follow up question but it still makes my stumps ache under my metal. "I shot Mindburner Y'andi in the face with a missle at close range." The insect person slaps her/their mandibles with their hand. "Holy shit, that was you? I wondered what happened to you! I saw that fight and had no idea you survived. Can I get your autograph?" I choke a little. I have a fan?

"Uh, sure. I guess. Do you have something for me to sign?" They take out a notepad, rather oldschool really, and a pen. "And what is your name?" They beam at the question. "My name is K'teva." Okay so she is female. 'To K'teva, my biggest fan who was there since the beginning.' I might as well sign it with the stupid name I spent two days coming up with. 'Fractal Carnage.' K'teva takes the autograph and looks at it like I just gave her a winning lottery ticket. The other three quickly take out what amounts to their own autograph books but theirs are more spur of the moment. I still sign them all with a smile. The highlight of my trip to this sector. 

I stay with them for another hour, regaling them with stupid stories or helping settle any more disputes about who could beat who or what are the hardest arbitrations to deal with. So this is what it feels like to be famous. I get myself a fresher cup of coffee on my way out and have a lot more pep in my step. I have fans, a really stupid name, and coffee. If I can get a ship of my own and a staff then I might be able to make this shitty job work. I pause at the porthole again as I pass it. 

Kovas, the gateway to the frontier. Fighting down there is going to be difficult. Frontier worlds are were the worst things the Empress approves or doesn't approve of call home. The fact the bandits call an old lab home is worrisome because it was researching something that needed to be away from prying eyes. The weapons convoy they hit is also a troubling factor because it got the Empress's attention. Is it a bioweapon of some kind or a chemical weapon? Potentially it is some kind of fungicide if it was developed here. The giant mushrooms all over the equator and whatever else that exists would be good testing fodder for such a thing.

I walk back to my closet and start packing up all my spare clothes and belongings. Realistically I should bring something big to this arbitration. For show business I should under prepare to keep it interesting. Maybe I should see about picking up a chainsaw. No, that is a dumb idea. A flamethrower gets better ratings and is actually useful in a heavy foliage environment. Yea, I think I have one of those in my truck if they will finally let me get into the cargohold and check. A flamethrower, my favorite hand cannon, and my Sica. The freighter goes into its final descent and things start to get a little choppy.


	3. Liminal Spaces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long. World building is a great and terrible time sink.

Sicarii in residence. That is the reason why I had to cross half of the galaxy just to get to this planet. A few months of taking the cheapest freighters and unmanned shuttles I could find. Luckily it isn't this planet that I have to stay on, because as far as I can tell this place sucks. A near constant haze of fungal spores linger in the air, making everyone have to wear environmental suits just to avoid ruining their clothes. Just a working layover between this freighter and the team I am working with over the next however long. It has taken so long to get over to the frontier that the team composition has changed a couple times. Now that we are landed the crew is trying to get everyone, especially me, to get all their stuff and get out. Rude but understandable. They didn't come here to ferry people, they just didn't want to turn down the extra cash. 

With all of my loose belongings in hand I walk with my usual metal clanks towards the cargo bay. Now that we are within range of the city's relay all of the missed updates and briefings start to flood into the database. I will go through the... 400 missed updates... Pain in my shiny metal ass... Next time I need to find a ship with its own relay. The long walk to the cargo bay at least gives me enough time to weed out all of the spam, expense report updates, obnoxious chain emails, and death threats. Some people have a lot of time on their hands and a vivid imagination. Someone wants to tie me up, set me in a dunk tank above chlorine trifluoride, and take turns with his buddies to hit the target to drop me to my doom. That is an extremely stupid plan but it is better than the usual 'I Hope You Die' spam. Chlorine trifluoride dunk tank deserves to be saved with the others. A little pick me up for later. Pretty sure I am supposed to report these to someone but whatever.

A few more emails as I go through the paperwork and inspection to make sure nothing was damaged in transit. The final team roster is here, and of course they work for KAVAD. Does any other corporation even try to compete with them at this point? Do I get a discount if I am working with them? I will have to ask the latter and see. I wonder what other corporations they gobbled up while I was travelling to expand their catalog. Because everyone needs to be able to buy a blender and a capital class warship from the same place. Who am I kidding, they have me by the wallet just like everyone else. My damn truck is KAVAD, my guns are all KAVAD, my clothes are KAVAD... fuck, I am pretty sure my liver is KAVAD now.

A soft beep unlocks my beloved transport. Finally being able to sit back in the driver's seat and have my own agency in where I go. Now to just twiddle my thumbs and wait for my turn to get the hell out of here and to customs. Ah whatever. Just being able to sit somewhere I can stretch my legs makes me feel better. The soft feeling of fabric on my back is a wonderful change of pace from the metal I have had it pressed to. I turn the 'radio' on with a discordant hiss. Some fumbling turns the static into something a bit more pleasant. Gabriela Galaxy's seductive voice wafts through the speakers of the cabin to bring me into my happy place. One of the few humans that were able to expand off Earth in a big way. The rasp of my own speakers join in with her while I am in private. "Oh what I would do... to just be with you... and see all the stars... to find one that's ours~" The voice of an angel in a duet with a demon. A downpour adds a steady beat to the music.

It is a slow process to get to customs. Those that were traveling without a ton of extra luggage have priority over those of us that are bringing their lives with them as they travel. I shouldn't say that actually, some of those traveling light may actually have all their lives with them. My hats off to those that it is true because I too once jumped into space on nothing but a dream. I hope it ends the way they want it to though. I could jump the line pretty easily if I just stuck my knife out the window but I am not in any hurry right now. Let everyone have their peace on their way out since they already dealt with me on the trip here. I open the glove compartment to grab my favorite mug and pull the caffeine dispenser up from the center console. A nice hot cup of coffee sounds pretty great right now. The sound of the truck's reactor smothers the sounds of the dispenser doing whatever alchemy it needs to to push out a better cup of coffee than the freighter ever could. Unfortunately it is nowhere near as memorable or harsh enough for my tongue to taste anything but something watered down. I roll down the window to finalize my little slice of paradise. It is an hour before I get to enjoy some true theater.

Someone of my profession has a dubious relationship with planetary customs. Many planetary governments will work with the Imperial government on many levels and pay fealty to the Empress in every way they are asked to. They are still not fond of individuals whose entire purpose is to kill people traveling with weapons explicitly illegal in most jurisdictions. Some customs officers will just wave us through because they do not want to deal with us or they will go through every single bullet to make sure I am allowed to have it and it is properly documented. It can take over an hour to go between every firearm and match it to every permit I have to hold it. Now that it is my turn, I pull the truck over to where they want me and pull out the less threatening badge I have. It is a simple black covered booklet with the sigil of my order, an orange eye incorporating the sica. When the two officers see it, I may as well have drawn the damn sica from how quickly they stiffen. As they open the booklet and verify the information I just try to keep a pleasant smile. "Let me know how I can help you two." All three of us are being inconvenienced here.

"We... We need to contact the office sir. Please bear with us." I cannot tell what the two of them are with their environment suits on but they are humanoid at least. "Take your time, I am in no rush." I take the badge back after they verify my credentials and return to sipping on more coffee. My lack of most biology keeps me from enjoying the caffeine but the smell is still there and wonderful. Since it is going to be a little bit longer I turn off the truck's repulser plates and let the truck touch whatever counts for tarmac here. It is another ten minutes of what I assume is scrambling back in the office before three more customs officers come running to the truck. One of the two comes back to my window. "Would you please open up the back sir?" I give them a smile and a nod. "Of course. I am going to go through and open it from the inside if that is okay." Slowly I unbuckle myself and when they give me the thumbs up, I commend their cultural training, I get up and walk into the back. The multitude of weapons in the back are going to be a chore to go through. I open up the back doors and watch the five of them stiffen fully. "Please come in, I can unlock anything you need me to for verification." It is a few strides back before they follow me in and take off their helmets. The person in charge approaches me as the other four get to work cataloging and figuring out what they need to ask for. 

The person in charge is a tall smoothed skinned predator with rows of sharp teeth like a shark from back home. I am really bad at determining genders of non-mammals and only half right when they are a mammal. "Sir, thank you for your compliance. We will make sure everything is done as quickly as possible." They stand at attention while trying their best to keep themselves between me and their subordinates. "Take your time officer." The last thing I want to do is act threatening towards them so I just lean against the wall and sip my caffeine. Any time one of them points at one of the cases of weapons, I walk over and unlock it. Bright side is that one of the customs officers found the flamethrower for me. Truly a silver lining in every situation. "Is there anything else that you need to bring to our attention in this truck?" The shark officer is doing a really good job at keeping control. "Yes, this truck is equipped with a rail cannon. If you need me to I can expose it." All five of them are looking at me with unrestrained fear now. "No, that will not be necessary!" The officer in charge composes themselves. "We will just need the serial number and permits for it." Not everyday you find someone carrying around anti-starship weaponry I guess. I set down my mug and pull out a binder full of permit hard copies and the serial numbers of everything. Another fifteen minutes before they clear me and walk in an expedient fashion back to the office. They didn't even check my ammunition.

With that taken care of I close up the truck and get back into the driver's seat. From the customs checkpoint to outside of the spaceport is a quick drive. The constant rainfall washes the fungal spores off of the modular buildings and flow down into the storm drains. Gabriela Galaxy has long since left the radio and been replaced with a string of artists I can't understand but their music is pretty enjoyable. I turn off the database from passively translating or giving insights just to have time to myself occasionally. Just me, the rain, and a growing feeling of hunger. Not a lot to do until I get contacted by the team when they arrive. Maybe I should park somewhere and get a bite to eat though that is a task easier said than done most of the time but there should be a truckstop somewhere. A light ding from the truck's navigation shows the way. I hope they have a good diner or dive bar there.

\- - -

The rain is still falling hard as I climb out of the truck inside of an environment suit. The darkened sky gives a wonderfully eerie look to the truck stop. A small collection of lights give some pitiful lighting to the massive parking lot. My left hand gently rests on the pommel of my sica on my way in. Not a lot of places for someone to jump out of but there are enough to let my imagination have its stupid fun. The dumpster or maybe from behind one of the other two trucks. Maybe the entire diner is full of people that will take offense to my presence. Logic slams the door on that nagging anxiety. Who in their right mind would pick a fight with me? I would have a bigger issue with someone warning the bandits I am being sent after than trying to kill me. Come on Falk, you are smarter than that. The door opens automatically with a hydraulic hiss with the station I was just listening to playing over the speakers. Only two other customers are inside and some canine waitress walking around on digitigrade legs with a pot of a hot beverage floating around with her. I hope it is coffee. Who am I kidding it is always coffee.

The waitress talks and I have to turn my database on fast to translate. "--have a seat and I will come take your order." She has a translator in her ear as well so I try English instead of Imperial Standard to pass as just a simple traveler. "Yes ma'am. Take your time." Her tail wags a little bit at the pleasantries before she goes off to fill some cups and collect the checks. Looks like the last two patrons are on their way out. I take my seat in a booth, remove my helmet, and place it next to me. It is a tight fit before the booth adjusts to my stature and a holoscreen asks what kind of utensils I want. Upon selection of my usual fork, spoon, and knife the table vibrates a little before dispensing a fresh printed set and some napkins. The waitress returns when I am fully situated. She is a quiet one but she keeps lightly stomping with each step as if she is self-conscious about how soft her footfalls normally are. 

"Sorry about the wait sir, my name is Reema and I will be your waitress this evening. Can I start you off with a cup of caffeine?" The constant smile and wagging tail makes her one of the brightest faces I have seen in a few months. Reema, you are by far my favorite person on this planet right now. "Yes please, coffee specifically if the dispenser has it." Reema would activate a pop up terminal for me to order my meal. "We do have coffee, let me get that for you. Search for what you want and I will bring it to you when the food dispenser is done with it." With another big smile and what sounds like a pleasant giggle she would walk over to the kitchen. "Thank you very much Reema." Again her tail wags more at the politeness. I fight the urge to look up a quick guide on etiquette just to keep making her happy. Instead I try to find biscuits and sausage gravy with a side of corn beef hash. A bit of searching for it and a little internal battle to get some sushi instead but a diner needs diner food. 

The other tables get cleaned by automated machines as I sit patiently. Small restaurants like this are where I eat most meals when I am planet-side. Reema comes back with the cup of coffee and a worried expression. "Um Sir, here is your coffee but... I think our food dispenser is on the fritz. What it is making looks kind of like um..." Like... what? She doesn't seem comfortable continuing so I venture a guess. "Does it look like someone got sick on the plate?" She nods. Oh. I forget how unappetizing that meal looks. "That is what it is supposed to look like." Reema's ears flatten to her head. "My apologies sir! I will go get it right now!" Before I can say a word she rushes off to the kitchen and I am trying my best not to laugh. I love biscuits and gravy but it looks like vomit and corn beef hash looks like pet food. She returns quickly and sets the food in front of me. Her embarrassment lingering in the silence. I cannot let her feel bad, not when she is this adorable. "You did nothing wrong Miss Reema, even back on my home planet this is an acquired taste just due to looks." Her ears perk back up and she stays nearby as I take the first bite. "Delicious. Thank you for the meal Miss Reema." Another smile from me sets her back to her good mood. 

Reema lingers at the booth as I eat, trying to look busy when there is nothing to do and no other customers. A few bites into my meal our eyes meet as she checks on me and I check on her. "Miss Reema, would you like to join me? I don't mind the company if you want to get off your feet." I wonder if she hears feet or paws in her language. Maybe they are the same word. Reema would pause and seem torn between keeping her professionalism and what I assume is curiosity. She comes and sits across from me in the booth and folds her hands on the table. "My name is Falk by the way. Help yourself if you would like to try this delicious mess. If you can eat human food I mean." Reema would actually take out a small tablet and scan the food. "I can eat it but... that is the food you ordered. I don't want to take your food away." She says that but she starts to select her utensil. What comes out is something like a spoon but it is broader and shallower than mine. "I would not have offered if I was not okay with it. I recommend taking a little of the gravy and a bit of biscuit as a bite then trying the hash." In a way I feel terrible but Reema reminds me of the many dogs from home and I want to spoil her rotten. "Both of those are delicious! I may have to get myself some." With a smile I enter in another order into the terminal. Reema lightly protests but now just smiles and leans in. "Thank you Mr. Falk." 

She gets up, retrieves her meal and returns with a glass of water in her other hand. As she eats her eyes stay firmly glued to me. "What brings you to Kovas?" Reema asks before she puts another utensil full of food into her mouth. "I am here on business but then I am going deeper into the frontier. Eventually I am going to end up on Belegost. Relocation because of my job kind of thing." I should try not to tell her what I do specifically. She might not actually realize. "Belegost?! I have always wanted to go to Belegost." Reema gives a light cough to compose herself. "How long have you been traveling to get here?" A sip of coffee to stall to build a story properly for her. "It has been a few months coming from the galactic interior." By now she is leaning attentively towards me. "And what do you do for work that would bring you all the way out here?" Damn right to making me lie to her. "I am a security consultant for the Imperial Government." I mean I do test security measures a lot so not as much of a lie. "That sounds like you are a really important person, you get to move to Belegost even. That sounds like a dream come true." 

"Are you from here Miss?" There is a wistful sigh from across the booth. "No... This is as far as I could get with the money I saved up. I was trying to get to Belegost but instead I am stuck here for now. Trying to save up more money to keep going and maybe try to go to school there. I heard that the universities are taking anyone who shows up and can pass their tests for free." Don't do it Falk. "How much money are you short?" You need that money for that new body Falk. "Unfortunately two thousand credits. If I wasn't going to take anything with me then one thousand..." Chances are I won't survive until I can afford that new body. My next arbitration could be my last. "That is a lot of money... But I am sure you will get it sooner than you think. Life has an odd habit of helping when you most need it." Reema laughs and finishes her meal. "Thank you Mr. Falk. Maybe we can meet again in Belegost?" I finish mine and get ready to pay my bill. "Yes of course Miss Reema. And when you get there you can contact me at this number. It could be a couple weeks before I get there just in case you arrive before me." Quickly I write down my contact information and slide it to her. Then while she is distracted I pay on the terminal and leave the largest tip of my life. At the very least I can say I did something good with my life.

I get up and wave goodbye to Reema. On my way back to my truck I pick up the pace. I need to get going before she sees what I did and I have to explain myself. The truck rumbles to life and I take off out of the truck stop. A figure comes running out of the diner before I lose sight of them.


End file.
